Anger management
by Mizu-Tenshi
Summary: Nowaki tries to get Hiroki to deal with his anger in more...constructive ways. A bet is made. Things go pear-shaped from there. Nowaki/Hiroki


Light Nowaki/Hiroki. Mostly humour to make up for the NowaHiro angst in 'Sayonara...' You might find part of this in the Junjou kink meme (because I like to cheat like that.)

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**Anger management**

XX

Nowaki had always stayed by his conviction that one Kamijou Hiroki was unbearably cute. Every time he said so, the other would blush, stutter and yell 'Idiot, how can a twenty-eight year old man be cute?' but all it did was make him appear cuter in Nowaki's eyes.

It did not matter much to him that no one else saw it, though he was convinced that if they looked past that defensive front and large pride, they too would realise that, deep down, Hiroki was _very_ cute.

Thus, Nowaki was positively glowing as he walked down the empty hallways of M University. Since it was his day off he felt it was his duty to at least help his boyfriend by delivering the papers Hiroki had left behind to the university.

It would be a good surprise too, and Nowaki had to admit he was just a little curious to see what Hiroki was like when he was teaching, though he was absolutely sure that, whatever he found, he would still think that he was cute nevertheless.

Finally, as he reached the classroom, he gripped the handle and swung open the door…to the sound of very angry shouting.

"That's wrong, Asano! Wrong! If I have to go all the way to Kyoto to tell your dear mother that her only son fails at basic reading comprehension, I will make you personally pay for my travel expenses, you hear me!?"

Hiroki was standing at the front of the class, his hand slammed down upon his desk. A student stood amongst the rest of the currently seated class, bowing profusely as he apologised over and over again.

"Y - Yes teacher!" the boy practically cried.

In a split second, the chalk in Hiroki's hand connected with the boy's forehead with deadly precision, almost knocking the poor student off of his feet.

"I'm a professor not some damn elementary school teacher! Get it right, idiot!"

"Y- Yes professor Kamijou! My sincerest apologies!"

"And you, Kobayashi!" Hiroki rounded on another student who had been secretly sniggering. "What is so funny? Did you forget that you almost failed the last mock test? A chain-smoking monkey suffering from lactic acid could do better!"

"Y- yes P - Professor Kamijou! I humbly apologise! My existence brings shame upon my entire family!"

As Hiroki then proceeded to yell and insult the entire body of his class, Nowaki remained rooted to the doorway. Sure, he had heard the nickname 'Demon Kamijou' but he knew how kids were these days, always so prone to exaggerate…

"H - Hiro-san?" he finally managed to stutter.

At the sound of his voice, Hiroki dropped the piece of chalk he was about to toss at a student."N - Nowaki!"

The class began softly bubbling after hearing someone address the Demon Kamijou as _'__Hiro-san.__'_This awe and wonder only increased when, two point five seconds later, Nowaki still had all of his limbs.

"I…I, err, hope I'm not interrupting. You left this on our kitchen table," Nowaki nervously showed him the brown envelope.

'_Our table'_

The class grew to an uproar.

"Silence!" Hiroki snapped and randomly pelted chalk at his students. Turning to Nowaki, he curtly took the envelope from him and pushed him to the exit. "Thanks, you can go now."

As he left the classroom, Nowaki was still convinced that Hiroki was cute. No, this did not change his impression of the man at all! Not even when, beyond the wood, he could still hear him yelling.

XX

Nowaki was in the kitchen, casually skimming over the day's newspaper when he heard Hiroki calling; "I'm home," as he walked into the kitchen as well.

"Welcome home, Hiro-san," Nowaki paused as he watched Hiroki reach for a bottle of water. "Um…Hiro-san."

"Oh, if it's about today, don't worry, my classes are always like that," he waved him off.

"Always?" Nowaki frowned. "You know, Hiro-san, I don't think shouting all the time is healthy. The stress can be really damaging." Well, he was a doctor after all.

The fridge door snapped shut. "Well, I'm sorry for being quick to yell!" Hiroki grumbled.

Nowaki fought back a sigh. He did not want to get him angry but he was also worried about his boyfriend's health. "Hiro-san, I just think it would be good if you tried, you know, to control it a bit more."

The expression on Hiroki's face darkened.

"Why not make it a bet? Try going one week without yelling or throwing things. If you can last longer than me, I promise not to bother you about this again," he suggested. Really, there was only one way to deal with Hiroki when he was like this.

"That's not fair," Hiroki frowned. Nowaki was giving him _those_ _eyes. _Those eyes that made him feel like an inexplicably cruel bastard if he refused anything.

"Why not?"

"Because you'll win."

Nowaki did his best to hide his laugh. Although he did not mean to seem arrogant, he was pretty sure he would win too. Regardless, he smiled and said; "You never know until you try."

XX

Thus, the first day swung around and Hiroki felt a familiar furrow of his eyebrows as the first annoyance came sweeping in.

"Takahashi! Come here, Takahashi."

"…Y - yes, professor," the boy jumped to his feet. This was something new. The Demon Kamijou _never _called someone over, opting instead for the long-range bombardment of chalk and pencils.

What kind of torture was he in for? With quivering legs, Takashi descended towards his professor whilst the class watched with bated breath.

Hiroki waved some papers in front of the boy's face. "Your work is full of grammar mistakes." More like flaming obvious errors even a five year old could spot!

"I'm sorry!" the boy bowed

"Be careful next time. Now, return to your seat," Hiroki nodded and returned to the work he was writing up on the blackboard. With his back turned, he was unable to see the looks of shock that filled the class.

Thus during that day, Hiroki did everything he could to refrain from becoming angry. It would be too embarrassing to lose the bet on the first day. Before yelling, he would take a deep breath and talk in a calm manner. He tried hanging around flowers and looking at fluffy clouds - the former he ended up trampling and the latter he began seeing various torture devices in.

In any case, he was always patient with his students and explained everything in a calm manner, even if their questions were so stupid that he wanted to hit them with a dictionary. Repeatedly.

By the end of the first day, a rumour had already spread that Demon Kamijou, had finally gone insane.

XX

By mid-week, Hiroki wanted to kill someone.

"Eh? What do you mean the shipment's been delayed?" he pressed the phone to his ear. "No, I don't want to - No, listen you imbecile, I - " he paused, suddenly remembering the bet he had with Nowaki. He would not yell. By God, he would not yell!

"Well, could you pass me to your superior? And how long do I have to hold?" he continued pleasantly. Kurosawa shipping be damned if the manager turned out to be as idiotic as the peanut-brained employees they had working for them!

No, this was no good. Calm blue ocean, calm blue ocean, calm blue ocean…

By the time he finally got through to speak to the superior, Hiroki could feel the muscles by his mouth twitching. Still, in an amazing display of control, he managed to keep his voice, though strained, at an amiable level.

"Oh no, it's only been forty minutes. I'm not paying for this call anyway."

They were idiots! Every one of them idiots!

"Yes, that would be helpful."

Idiots! Pea-brained morons who couldn't even grasp basic maths!

"Yes, thank you. Good day."

"Kamijou, what's up with you?" Miyagi entered the office just as he placed the receiver back down.

"What do you mean, professor?" he turned around, feigning innocence.

"Well, you're being awfully…docile lately," even Miyagi looked slightly perturbed. "The students are afraid you're planning something big. In fact, I think they're more afraid of you when you smile than they were when you were shouting and throwing chalk at them."

"That's not true, look Professor," he nodded towards a shadow approaching the office door.

"Uh, Professor Kamijou, about the deadline…" one of the female students poked her head inside before entering.

"Yes Sakurai?" he asked, offering her a stunningly generous smile.

The girl jumped back as though afraid to be bitten, her face turning pale with horror. "Ah…ah….eh….n - n - never mind!" she squeaked and quickly dashed out of the office.

Hiroki refrained from throwing something at Miyagi as the man mercilessly laughed for half an hour.

XX

Over the course of the week, Hiroki felt his energy being consequently drained as he tried to suppress the overwhelming urge to kill various things with fire. If anything, he thought he was more stressed now that he had no outlet for it than when he was yelling and throwing things at his students.

"Hang in there, Hiro-san!" Nowaki smiled, his usual cheerful self despite also taking part in the bet.

That radiant smile that came so easily to Nowaki's face was beginning to seriously piss him off.

Therefore, Hiroki looked forward to the final day of the working week with more eagerness than usual. He prayed that time would go quickly so that he could meet up with Nowaki outside the university and go home.

"Professor Miyagi, remind me why I have to do this," he sighed, working though the papers for the upcoming social event.

Miyagi looked at him incredulously. "It's Tanabata, Kamijou! You have to celebrate Tanabata!" he cried.

"I understand _that _but why can't we just wear casual clothes? I don't understand why we're being pressed to wear traditional dress," he protested. He understood that social evenings with the staff was important but the whole dress code was as silly as it was bothersome to him.

"_Because _Kamijou, it's Tanabata!" Miyagi stressed, as if that was the most obvious thing in the world.

"That doesn't explain anything!" he snapped. "Besides, I haven't worn traditional clothes since I was a kid. I don't even _own _a yukata!"

Miyagi sighed and turned to the suspicious black bag he had brought with him. "I thought this might happen so I took the liberty of buying a few things. Don't worry, I chose a lot of different styles so you can take your pick and pay me for it. The rest I'll return later."

For once in his life, Hiroki was actually a little touched by the generosity of his superior. He supposed the guy wasn't so bad after all. "I guess that saves me. Thanks prof - "

Actually, he took that all back.

"Well?" Miyagi grinned as he held up one very fine garment.

"Can I…see the others?"

As requested, Miyagi began pulling out all the other clothes. "That's all of them. What do you think?" he asked proudly, laying each one over the couch.

"Um, professor," Hiroki felt the muscles near his mouth twitching again. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but those are…_women__'__s_ kimono."

There was no doubt about it. The cut and size, along with the style and the fact that most were flowery and _very _pink all pointed to the fact that they were not made for men.

"But they'd look so good on you, Hi-ro-ki!"

"P - professor!"

Miyagi selected a light blue kimono imprinted with peonies and cranes. "Now, now, don't be shy! Why don't you try this one?"

Without waiting for an answer, Miyagi jumped him, bringing him to the floor as he tried to wrestle the shirt off of Hiroki's back.

"Don't be bashful now, Kamijou, we're both men!"

"Screw you, Miyagi! You're not a man, you're a he-devil! I bet your _thing _has horns on it, right!?"

The shirt came partly undone and Hiroki did his best to crawl away.

"You're only making this harder for yourself, Kamijou, my dear!"

Just as his shirt was almost all the way off and, by then, he was feeling both hot and flustered, the door to the office opened and the familiar figure of Nowaki entered.

"Hiro-san! Sorry I'm…late…" he trailed away at the sight before him.

It briefly occurred to Hiroki how incriminating their current position seemed to the casual observer. There he was, his shirt almost off, exposing his bare chest, face flushed and eyes watering whilst Miyagi sat on top of him, a hand still holding on to his shirt.

All it took was a split second for said head of literature to find himself slammed against the wall.

Nowaki was glowering so hard that it seemed he could strike someone down with his eyes alone. He raised his fist, ready to knock the living daylights out of him

"Whoa, wait! Wait, time out!" Miyagi waved his hands about innocently. He remembered the last time he had been socked by Nowaki and it had _hurt. _"This is a misunderstanding! Kamijou, tell your boyfriend he's got the wrong idea!"

Hiroki opened his mouth to tell Nowaki to stop but the sight of the flowery and _very _pink kimonos draped over the couch halted him. He averted his eyes instead, clutching his shirt to his chest.

"…P - professor…how could you?"

"Ehhh!? Kamijou, you traitor!" Miaygi cried before he was lost under the rain of Nowaki's fists.

The evening ended with a very sore Miyagi, a blushing Nowaki, who was stuttering his apologies, and one smug Hiroki.

After losing the bet, Nowaki never asked Hiroki to try and deal with his anger in more constructive ways. Thus Kamijou Hiroki, twenty-eight years old, happily returned to yelling and pelting chalk at his class.

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End file.
